The night had become a veil laden with omens.
The Valtieri mansion still echoed with the remnants of the banquet, yet Selene was no longer in the hall. She sought refuge in the dark corridors where the shadows danced silently to the sound of hurried footsteps. Her left hand—still marked and concealed by a black glove—pulsed with persistent pain, a cruel reminder of the sealing that Dante had imposed upon her soul.
With her heart ablaze, Selene could no longer bear the air of that golden prison. She fled from the mansion and fastened her horse. Dressed in a red hood, she mounted and rode deep into the night, leaving behind an echo of whispers and accusations. A fine rain fell like tears from the heavens, yet there was no redemption for what she felt.
Baltazar saw her depart. Hidden among the columns of the courtyard, he watched her figure disappear among the trees. With eyes narrowed by both fear and a desire to protect her, he mounted his horse and followed silently.
Selene reached the lake, where the moon reflected on the dark waters like a somber mirror of her soul. She dismounted, removed her hood, and let her white hair dance in the wind. She felt empty, torn apart from within.
Baltazar approached with calm steps, dismounting in silence.
— Selene... — he called, his voice gentle and deep. — What happened? I couldn't leave you alone like that.
She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes red from holding back tears. She did not speak immediately. Respecting her silence, Baltazar simply drew nearer and embraced her.
— I'm tired, Baltazar... of being a puppet, of living among monsters. My own father has handed me over to the shadows.
He held her tighter.
— Dante is more than just a cruel man. There is something in him that goes beyond anyone's understanding. Little is known about his origins. They say he was born of scandal, of a woman who was shunned, and that he never knew who his father was. He was raised in darkness. Without love. Without light.
Selene closed her eyes.
— I hurt him with words... I said his mother was a filthy bitch. I said he was nothing but an unworthy bastard... and I think he will never forget.
Baltazar cupped her face tenderly.
— He is not worthy of you. He is darkness, and you are so much more.
Before any more words could be spoken, the sound of chains echoed through the clearing. From the shadows, Dante emerged. Tall and unyielding, as if the night itself recognized him as its master. His eyes locked on Baltazar, and his voice came out deep and threatening:
— Get away from her.
Baltazar turned, placing himself in front of Selene, sword in hand.
— She is not your prisoner, Dante.
Dante laughed with disdain, his eyes burning like embers.
— She has always been mine. You... are just a foolish bystander trying to steal what does not belong to you.
They advanced toward each other. The moonlight was swallowed by clouds, and darkness took hold. Dante moved like a living shadow. In seconds, blood began to flow from Baltazar's shoulder, and he fell to his knees, gasping. His wide eyes revealed not just pain, but fear.
— He is far stronger... — Baltazar thought, defeated.
Dante turned to Selene, panting, his eyes dilated with possessiveness. He seized her arms, pulling her close.
— No one else will touch you. No one. If necessary, I will chain you to my side. Is that what you want, Selene? To live free only to be defiled by others?
She tried to resist, but her eyes became lost in his. Dante cupped her face with one hand and drew her nearer, their faces almost touching.
— Tell me you hate me. Say it and I will let you go.
But she did not speak. Instead, her lips met his. A furious kiss, full of pain, desire, and anger. Dante returned the kiss, and for a moment, the world stood still.
He wrapped her in black chains that seemed to emerge from his very flesh, as if they were extensions of his soul. Selene moaned, but did not pull away. Her tear-filled eyes met his.
Then, with a gentle movement, she kissed him again. A different kiss—calm. Warm. In that moment of vulnerability, she freed herself.
— You do not possess me. No one possesses me. — she whispered, panting.
She mounted her horse without looking back. The chains lay on the ground like defeated serpents. Dante remained still, his eyes fixed on her. Baltazar, kneeling, also watched her go.
They stayed there, witnessing Selene riding toward the darkness—belonging to neither of them.
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